Day 8: Trust Me
by victoriacole
Summary: "You can trust me; trust nobody."


Day 8: **Trust Me**

_"You can trust me;  
Trust nobody"_

:

She looked at him, her head tilted,

_"Who are you fighting for?" _It was a whisper. A silent plead for the right answer. He kissed her lips, a light pressure that made her head dizzy. She felt the air inside of her lungs turn to helium and she started to float away. She opened her eyes and pulled away. She looked in his eyes, searching for the truth.

He put his rough, calloused hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb across her soft, pink lip that was stuck out in a pout. God, it was so cute when she pouted. His heart shattered at her sad expression.

"I'll fight for you, no matter what," he reassured her gently, "Always fight for you."

He lightly kissed her again, standing and leaving. He barely heard her call out to him. _Wait._ Her voice rang through his ears, bouncing around his brain and tightening around his heart. The regret was twisting around his stomach. It was a rope, pulling his stomach acids to his throat and making his eyes water with it. He could barely breathe. He turned and looked at her, and she smiled at him, mouthing the words _I love you._

Fight for her. How could he fight for the other side? He wasn't suited for her side. She trusted him. She was foolish. She shouldn't trust anybody, especially him. He was a liar. He truely loved her, that was for sure. But he wasn't fighting for _her. _He was fighting for himself. Survival before happiness. That was bred into his head. Pounded deep, always coming to his consciousness before he let himself go and felt happiness.

He stood on the battleground. _I'll fight for you, no matter what_. His promise was about to be broken. He couldn't do this to her. He was going to kill her friends. He was going to kill _her. _He couldn't ...

He turned around, running away from his battle. His feet were heavy, like bricks, as he tried to lift them. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. His heart pounded.

She looked up at him, standing over her, shaking. His eyes were watery. _Men don't cry,_ he would always say to her. She's argue, _men who cry are the strongest men. They're the men who are manly enough to admit they have emotions. _She'd then run her hand down his arm, clutching his hand and kissing his cheek. She stood,

"Are you okay?" Her eyes scanned his face, worry creasing her forehead. Her eyes were wide, worrysome, full of love. He put his forehead to hers, inhaling her scent.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, a tear falling from his face, "I'm so, so sorry."

Her hand touched his face, a light brush. A feather on his cheek.

"Why?" Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat, sniffing and trying to blink back her tears, "Why are you sorry? What happened?"

"You mean the world to me. You're my sun, my moon, my stars. You're my atmosphere, stratosphere, you're my universe. You're the oxygen I can't live without, you're the everything to my anything," he rattled on.

She let out a sob, "Oh, God," she threw her arms around him, "You're fighting for _them_ aren't you? You're a death eater. You're not fighting for me, are you?"

He shook his head, "Yes, I had no other choice. But I am fighting for you. Whoever I fight or kill, I'm doing it for you. I told you not to trust me. I told you not to trust _anyone_. You were a foolish girl, and I was a foolish boy. But I'm fighting to keep _you _alive. And if I die, I died for you. I died so you can live. I want you to be happy, I want you to marry. I want you ..."

She cut him off, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Go," she urged, "Go fight. Go kill who you have to kill. You'll live, I promise. I know you're strong. You cried, you're strong enough to do that, you're strong enough to admit your feelings. Draco, you're stronger than you know. You'll come out alive, and stronger, and wiser than before. You'll come out of there and we can be happy. I trust you ... I love you."

He sniffed, walking away from her, "I'll come back, I promise," he kissed her once more and squeezed her hand, "For you."

She smiled at him and turned to fight for her side. Her side against his side. She made her way into the battle, shouting curses here and there. _Crucio! _She called, hearing the screams of the suffering. She couldn't handle it.

She spun around pointing her wand at a masked enemy. _Avada kedavra!_ She shouted, the green light reaching the figure's chest. She fought and fought, scanning for the familiar figure. Everyone looked the same in the Dark Lord's uniforms.

As soon as she started, the war seemed to end. Harry Potter had defeated Lord Voldemort. She cheered, looking around for Draco. Where was he? She found his mother, who seemed to be looking for the same thing.

She went around lifting the masks. She found the death eater she killed. She lifted the mask. Her throat closed in as her head began to whirl. She didn't. No, she couldn't have. She started to gasp and scream. She lost control of herself. She shouted and screamed.

"No," she cried, "No, no, no, no. This isn't, no. I couldn't have," she pressed her face to his chest, breathing in the scent of his robes and his sweat.

_You'll live, I promise, _she had said. Just an hour before. And now, an hour later, she broke her promise. She killed her love. She killed a piece of herself. She was a murder. She . . .

How could she live happily? She let herself go. She layed on the cold, hard ground. Her head on the chest of her dead lover. She cried and cried.

Without her noticing, her friends picked her up as she cried. For years after, it seemed she cried. She never seemed to stop crying. Her dreams were filled with love, and happiness, and broken promises. She slept to see his face again. She seemed to never awaken.

The only reason she stayed alive, because he died, to keep her that way. And forever, she hated herself.


End file.
